


Octopath High

by Artemitica



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-17 09:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16971756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemitica/pseuds/Artemitica
Summary: Ophilia Clement starts her first day at a new school. Something light and fluffy, but with a bit of drama and humor. Featuring a few favorite pairings, and lots of characters. American High School AU.Mild language, a bit of drug use, and hints of sexual situations.





	1. Chapter 1

Ophilia Clement walked into the front office of her new school. It was tough transferring in the middle of the semester, but this was the school her sister attended--even if Lianna was only a freshman, and Ophilia was a junior. She walked into the building, the only sound she could hear was the deafening squeak of her new black boots on the slick linoleum. It was probably not as loud to the random kids and teachers hanging out in the office, but she already knew today was going to be nerve-wracking. She stepped up to the front desk, tugging her dark jean jacket up her arms.

"Hi," she said to the secretary, who barely looked up from her computer screen. "Today's my first day?"

The woman stared at her, blankly. 

"I... I need a class schedule?"

The woman yelled back over her shoulder. "Lucia! We got a new girl!"

Another secretary poked her head in from behind a partition. "For pete's sake, alright. What's the name?"

"Ophilia Clement?" she said timidly, clutching her backpack strap.

"Clement, Clement..." Lucia said, ruffling through some papers on her desk. "Ophilia?"

"Yes!" she said.

"Your name is spelled wrong."

Ophilia flushed. "No, it's..."

"Whatever." Lucia handed a sheet of paper through to the front desk secretary, who passed it to Ophilia. 

"Hey, are you new?!" A girl bounded beside Ophilia, a stack of papers in her hand. "Can I show her around?"

"Knock yourself out," Lucia responded, not looking up.

"Yay! Also, could you put these in the teachers' mailboxes? They're for the student council fundraiser."

The bored front desk secretary took them, and plopped them down next to her. The girl turned her sunny smile to Ophilia.

"Hi! I'm Tressa!" the girl grinned. She had a fluffy white skirt that poofed out when she spun, and chubby cheeks like a chipmunk. "I'm only a sophomore, but I’m like SUPER involved. I can show you around!"

"Thanks," Ophilia said, hesitant about the girl's overwhelming energy.

Ophilia followed Tressa as she bounced down the halls, pointing out the art room, the cafeteria, the library, the common area, the music wing. She talked non-stop in a bright, sing-song voice. Ophilia tried to keep up, feeling almost as if she was babysitting.

"And you see all these beautiful posters up? That's for the Student Council fundraiser. Our posters are the best. Don't you think?"

"They're beautif--”

“You should totally join the School Spirit Committee! You'll make lots of friends!”

Ophilia shrugged. "I don't kn--"

"You should. I'll put your name down. The bell's gonna ring, though. I gotta get to first period. Where's yours? Got your schedule?”

"Uhm..." Ophilia looked down down down at the paper she had been carrying, with no time to look at it. "History. With Mr..."

"Yvon," Tressa said. "It's hard to pronounce. I can take you there!" Tressa blathered on about teacher's names, who taught what, who her teachers were--all far too much for Ophilia to take in or even care about. Tressa finally stopped in front of a classroom door, with a flourish.

"Here we are!" she announced. "I hope you have a great first day!" She started off, then called back over her shoulder, "and don't forget to sign up to be on the School Spirit Committee! We meet every Wednesday and Thursday after school!"

"Yeah, I'll think about it! Thanks!" Ophilia said, waving.

"Don't," a voice said from behind her.

"Sorry?" Ophilia turned to see the owner of the voice. A girl was leaning against the wall, smacking her gum and toying with the end of her long, brown ponytail. 

"Don't do it. It's like a cult. It'll suck you in, and all of your free time. Mattias--student council president--is too demanding."

"I probably wouldn't have time. I have church on Wednesday nights, " Ophilia said.

The girl just laughed. A portly teacher shuffled by, leering at the two of them. The girl quickly zipped up her leather jacket over the red and gold crop top she was wearing.

"Are you in dress code, Miss Azelhart?"

"Of course, Mr. Helganish. See?" She flashed a sweet smile, spreading her arms to display her outfit.

"Skirt's too tight," Helganish said, appraising.

The girl shook her head. "It fits the length requirements. And there isn't anything in the dress code about tightness. I checked, because I didn't want to be breaking any rules." She said this with cloying sweetness.

"Spit out your gum," Helganish said, and trundled on.

"Pervert," the girl muttered under her breath, and turned to head into the classroom. 

Ophilia followed, approaching the teacher seated at his desk.

"Hi, I'm Ophilia. I'm new? Where should I sit?"

The teacher, looking frazzled, looked up at her with a frown. "Find an open seat."

Ophilia turned to the class of strangers, clutching her backpack strap. A girl in a fuzzy lavender sweater was waving to her, a bright smile on her face.

"New girl! Sit here!" she said, motioning to a desk near her. Gratefully, Ophilia moved to meet her new friend, running into the guy sliding into the seat in the front row, knocking a book out of his hand.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Ophilia said, mortified, bending to pick up the book for him. 

"My fault," the guy said. "I was reading and walking at the same time." 

As Ophilia handed him his book, his smile caught her off guard. He was far more attractive than anyone who walked and read at the same time had any right to be.

"Are you new?" he asked.

"Yeah," Ophilia said, staring at the collar of his button-down shirt, peeking out under his black sweater, instead of his face. "My name is Ophilia."

"I'm Cyrus. Welcome!" he said, then leaned in close to whisper to her, "Yvon grades you based on how much he likes you. Suck up at the beginning and you'll have an A all semester."

"Thanks," Ophilia said, flushing with embarrassment. He was outrageously close to her right now.

"Would everyone please take your seats?" Mr. Yvon called out, and Ophilia gave Cyrus a nervous smile, and shuffled on to sit by the girl who had waved her over. The girl's mouth was open in incredulous shock. 

"Oh. My. God." she said. "What did he say to you?"

"Him?" Ophilia looked back at Cyrus, who was already sitting in his desk in the front row, writing the date on a blank sheet of notebook paper. "Nothing. Just asked if I was new."

"He is so hot," the girl said dreamily. "Like, way hotter than a nerd should be. It doesn't make any sense."

"Therese, the new girl's gonna steal your man," a girl with platinum blonde hair leaned forward, poking the girl in the lavender sweater. 

"Shut up!" she slapped at her. 

"I'm not... I'm not stealing anybody's boyfriend," Ophilia said awkwardly.

"Oh we're not--" Therese said, waving a hand in front of her. "I would never. I just like to look at him, you know?"

"What's your name, girlie?" The platinum blonde asked.

"Ophilia."

"Aww, that's so pretty!"

"Miss Ravus, if we could please get started?" Mr. Yvon called from the front of the room, staring at Ophilia and the platinum blonde.

"Sorry, sir," the blonde said, leaning back in her chair.

"Thank you," Mr. Yvon said. "Now, like I said during our last class, today you will be assigned partners for your end of unit projects. They will be assigned randomly, and this project will account for 25 percent of your grade this quarter." 

Cyrus' hand shot up, and Yvon sighed. "Yes, Mr. Albright.”

"Is this a partner grade or individual grade?"

"Partner," Mr. Yvon said. "So both members should pull their own weight. I have some index cards with numbers on them, and each student will pick a card. Whoever matches your number is your partner. I've even added one in for our new student today," he nodded to Ophilia, and she felt the eyes of the class turn to her. Cyrus looked back at her, a hint of a smile on his lips. 

"But of course," Yvon continued, "since this is an end of unit project, she hasn't been here for our course of study." Cyrus' smile faded, and he turned back to face forward. "There is no switching partners. I catch you, you will have to complete the project by yourself."

Cyrus' hand shot up again.

"No, you may not choose to work by yourself."

Cyrus lowered his hand.

The blonde leaned forward to Therese. "Ooh, I know who you want for a partner."

"Shut up, Cordelia!"

"Any questions?" Mr. Yvon asked.

The door opened abruptly, and a boy with shaggy pale hair and chunky white rimmed sunglasses stood in the doorway.

"Don't worry, guys," he said, spreading his arms wide. "I made it to school today. Not on time, but I made it"

"I thought you were still suspended," Yvon rolled his eyes. "Take your seat, Mr. Therion. You're just in time to get a partner for the project."

"Oh, yay," the boy said, with false enthusiasm. 

"And take off those ridiculous glasses."

He pulled the glasses off, shoving them into the pouch of his oversize purple hoodie. He hit Cyrus’ desk as he passed it, slapping the center of his notebook page. Cyrus smiled faintly. Ophilia leaned back as the newcomer approached her. He gave her a quick glance, then grinned at the desk behind Therese.

"Hi, Cordelia," he said, putting on his slimiest grin.

"Gross. Go away."

This just made him grin wider, as he strutted towards the back of the room. Therese leaned over to Ophilia to whisper, "Cordelia secretly likes bad boys."

"Oh my god, shut up!" Cordelia kicked under the desks at Therese's feet.

At the front of the room, Mr. Yvon was carefully shuffling his index cards. He gave one off the top of the stack to Cyrus, then fanned them out for the rest of the students to choose. Cyrus eyed him suspiciously, but Yvon took no notice. He continued to ramble on about the project requirements and expectations.

Ophilia glanced behind her at the latecomer. He had plopped down in a seat in the back row, right next to the girl with the gum she had seen outside the door. He whispered something to her, and she laughed. The girl noticed Ophilia looking at her. Flustered, Ophilia turned around.

“So, I'm loving those white jeans,” Cordelia said, leaning forward. “Where's your last school?”

“I went to a private school,” Ophilia said. “Saint Aelfric's of the Sacred Flame?”

“Oh, so you're like a good girl,” Cordelia teased.

“Unless she got kicked out,” Therese said. “For dressing way too cute.”

“No, I just--” Ophilia’s cheeks reddened as the complement sank in. “Just wanted something different. Too many… mean people, who use religion as an excuse to be horrible.”

“Got ya,” Cordelia said. “No mean people here. Just idiots.” She glanced back over her shoulder at Therion. He noticed, and made air kisses in her direction.

“Ugh,” she said, but Ophilia could see the hint of a smile.

Mr. Yvon had dealt out the rest of the cards, handing the very last one to Therion. “All right, find your partners. No trading numbers!” All at once, the class was on their feet, calling out the numbers on their cards. Ophilia looked around, bewildered, as Therion approached her. She initially avoided his eyes, but he came right towards her.

"Hey, you're new, right?" He said, looking around her as he spoke.

"Yes, I--"

"Great. What number did you get?"

Ophilia held up her card. "I got a 5."

"Perfect." Therion snatched the card out of her hand.

"Hey! He said we couldn't--"

Therion ignored her, tossing his card down on her desk. Ophilia looked back at the teacher, but the girl with the gum and the crop top from the hallway was talking to Mr. Yvon, so he didn't notice. She was holding her card up behind her back as she spoke to him--an upside-down 5.

Therese grabbed her arm. “Girl. I need the 12. Help me find it.”

Ophilia looked down at the card left on her desk. It had a 12 on it.

“Switch with me!” Therese cried.

“There is no switching!” Mr. Yvon boomed, suddenly next to then. “Miss uh... new girl. Let me help you find your partner.” When Ophilia held up the card, he looked at it with a frown. It wasn't the result he had expected.

Cyrus swept in, smiling genially. “I believe that makes me your partner, Ophilia. Lucky me.” Ophilia couldn't tell, because of his warm smile, if he was being sarcastic or not. She was also a little shocked that he had remembered her name. No one else had. Mr. Yvon shrugged. 

Cyrus set his stack of school supplies down on a desk, and gestured for Ophilia to join him. She glanced up at the fuming Therese, shrugged apologetically, and sat next to him.

Cyrus started speaking immediately. “So I was thinking about focusing on the arts and humanities aspect of the 1920's, with a particular focus on the works of F. Scott Fitzgerald and his representation of the emerging class differences between the working class and the ultra rich. Then a discussion about how these themes of frivolous, extravagant wealth helped lead to the eventual stock market crash and the disastrous effects it had on both of these groups in the ensuing decade.”

Ophilia blinked. “Sure... uh...what part should I do?”

Cyrus narrowed his eyes at her “How much do you know about the Gilded Age?”

“Uhm…”

“What was your history grade at your last school?”

“I had an A,” Ophilia said defensively.

“Yeah, but what percent?”

“Like... like a 93? Maybe?” She really didn't remember.

Cyrus frowned worriedly, then covered this up with a friendly smile. “You can draw the pictures?”

Ophilia felt slighted. “It's my grade too, right? Shouldn't I do something?”

“Yes, but…” Cyrus leaned in close, to whisper. “Yvon hates me. I called him out on a factual error the first week of school, and he's never gotten over it. He barely teaches, anyway--just biding his time until he can land a principal position. So, if I turn in anything less than perfect, he's going to take it out on my grade. And I will not settle for anything less than a 4.0. I'm not letting this guy ruin my chances at scholarships and Ivy League acceptances.”

“Okay, well…” Ophilia leaned back, a little intimidated. “Tell me what you need me to draw pictures of?”

Cyrus spent the remainder of the period verbally outlining his ideas to her, while he produced a pad of sticky-notes from an impeccably organized pencil case. He marked a few pages in his textbook he wanted her to "read and conceptualize an artistic representation of." He pushed it at her to stow in her backpack.

“Don't you need it?” she asked. “For the project?”

Cyrus gave her a patronizing smile.

When the bell rang, Ophilia swept up her things, including Cyrus’ book, and followed the class out into the hallway. Once there, she realized she had no idea where she was going. She stopped to check her schedule, and had almost found her second period before someone ran into her.

“Hey!” she whirled, saw Therion.

“My bad, honestly,” he said, holding up his hands. “Complete accident.”

Ophilia glowered at him. "Why'd you have to switch with me? You could have got me in trouble, you know."

Therion shook his head. “You seem like the good girl type. You would have been fine."

Ophilia frowned, replaying the situation in her head. "Is that other girl... is she your girlfriend?"

“Prim?” Therion laughed. "You _are_ new here. Of course not."

Ophilia crossed her arms. "Whatever. You should have just stayed partners with Cyrus. He's going to do all the work anyway."

"Yeah, that's the problem. I got a perfect record of not doing jack in that class. You know, in protest. Against the patriarchy. Or capitalism. Whatever. Can't let some nerd ruin it."

Ophilia rolled her eyes. "I just wanted you to know that I didn't appreciate it."

"Why not? Don't all the girls want to be with him?"

Ophilia was about to reply, but he had already whooshed past her down the hall.

\--- --- ---

She made it to second period P.E., right after the bell rang. The gym was crazy. Apparently one of the coaches was out, and there was no substitute, so a class of seniors, juniors, and freshmen were all using the gym at the same time. She tried to explain to Coach Werner that she didn't have any clothes to change into, but he went on about his refusal to accept excuses, and how he wouldn't take no for an answer, and told her she would be practicing volleyball today anyway, no matter what she was wearing. She looked around the class for support, but didn't recognize anyone from her last period, and no nice person waving her over like Therese. Ophilia just shrugged, and decided to practice some sets against the wall.

She felt she was doing well, getting the hang of it, when a stray serve came barreling at her, striking her right in the shoulder. It knocked her off balance, and she tripped over her own ankle, falling to the gym floor. She looked up in anger, rubbing her shoulder.

“Did I get you?” a muscled blond guy jogged over to retrieve his ball. He had to be a senior, with his cocky attitude. He laughed. “Maybe get out of the way?”

Ophilia glowered at him. “You could at least apologize,” she muttered, and was surprised by an extended hand offering to help her up.

“You okay?” a deep voice asked. It belonged to another muscly senior, but this one with dark hair and missing the cocky grin.

“Yeah.” Ophilia gratefully took his hand, her small one almost disappearing entirely within his. 

“First days are tough,” he said.

“Hey, Eisenberg!” Coach Werner called out. “You're not here to socialize! Hit some balls or take a walk!”

“You wanna…” he made a volleyball serving motion in the air. “Then you don't have to practice with the wall.”

“Yeah, sure, I--” Ophilia looked around for her volleyball, and set it easily to him.

As they hit the ball back and forth, she asked her new friend some questions. Today was probably the best day to indulge her natural nosiness. His name was Olberic, he played junior varsity quarterback. Not varsity-- he had been competing with the other blond guy who had served a volleyball at her face for that position. But he had ended up in a fight right before tryouts, and even though he wasn't the instigator, he had ended up suspended just because he fought back. He missed tryouts, and Coach Werner had given away the prime position-- leaving him playing on the lesser team.

“Zero tolerance,” Olberic said. “Just saying, if you get in a fight, even if you're defending yourself, you still get in trouble.”

“Are… are there a lot of fights?” Ophilia asked, concerned. She didn't want to get caught up in trouble again.

“Not if you stay away from certain people,” Olberic said. “You seem nice. You'll be fine.”

“Eisenberg!” the blond jock called out. “Cecily's gonna get awful jealous when I tell her you're flirting with the new girl!”

Olberic's face went from calm to furious in a second. “Screw you, Erhardt! I'm just being polite!”

“You wanna settle this now?!” Erhardt stepped forward, posturing.

Olberic did the same, while Ophilia went pale, clutching the volleyball to her chest for protection. Coach Werner blew his whistle. “Either one of you two knuckleheads lays a finger on the other, it's a weeks worth of detention!” The whistle seemed to jar some sense into them both. “Fifty push ups. Both of you. Go.”

Obediently, both dropped to the floor, competing to see who could pump out the push ups faster. Ophilia shook her head, and went back to practicing with the wall.

\--- --- ---

Her next class was chemistry. She made her way to the science lab, and after checking in with the teacher, Mr. Ogen, she was directed to a table with a mulleted blond guy in a green flannel shirt, and the ponytailed gum-chewer from first period. She smiled at them, but the girl didn't smile back.

“Hi, I'm Ophilia? We have history together.”

“I know. I saw you.”

Ophilia studied her face. She was pretty, with her winged eyeliner and her gold hoop earrings, but her voice was so cold.

“What's your name?”

The girl ignored her.

“She's Primrose,” the guy at their table said, cutting into the conversation. His voice was a little shaky.

“Thanks for ruining the mystery,” Primrose said. “Yeah. Hi. See you're friends with Therese and that lot already.”

The way she said this made it seem like a bad thing. “I just met them today,” Ophilia explained. “I don't really know them that well.”

“You should stay away,” Primrose warned. “They're bad news.”

Ophilia frowned. “Aren't we supposed to be doing some chemistry or something?”

Primrose shrugged. “Ogen barely teaches. He just writes the assignment on the board, and then we do it. Or, Alfyn does it, and I copy his answers.” She smiled at the blond guy.

“I'm pretty good at chemistry,” Alfyn explained. Ophilia could notice now that he had a bit of a southern accent. “I could let you use my answers, too. If you want.” He looked down at his notebook, where he was tapping his pencil nervously against the page.

“But then we're not learning the material,” Ophilia said.

Primrose pouted at her. “Aww, you wanna be popular _and_ make honor roll. So cute.”

Ophilia frowned. “Maybe I should ask for a new table.”

“No!” Alfyn said, and when both girls looked at him, he cleared his throat. “No, I mean…” he smiled at Primrose. “She don't mean anything by it. It's just her nature. Don't take it personal.”

“Yeah, it's just my nature,” Primrose laughed. “Just looking out for you, new girl! But for real, those bitches are bad news.”

“How so?” Ophilia asked, ready to defend Therese and Cordelia.

“You should know about Mary.”

Alfyn shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Such a shame.”

Ophilia frowned.

“So Mary used to hang out with them. Sweet girl, really smart, cheerleader, all that junk. She was Therese's cousin.”

Ophilia didn't like the use of the past tense.

“So she asks that guy Therese is obsessed with to the fall harvest dance. What's his name? The nerdy hot one.”

“Cyrus,” Ophilia said. “He's my partner on the history project.”

“Ooh,” Primrose said, shaking her head. Alfyn sucked air through his teeth. “Yeah, stay far, far away.”

“The wrath of Therese,” Alfyn muttered.

“What happened?” Ophilia said, starting to chew on her lower lip.

“Therese and her friends ruined this girl Mary's life. Started all kinds of rumors about her, first. Killed her reputation. Then Therese got access to her accounts and started posting all these things about the other girls on the cheer squad, telling them they were ugly and they should kill themselves, and all that junk. That got her kicked off of cheer, and she lost all her friends. Then they started stealing her homework-- like she would do it, but they'd steal it off the teachers’ desks so it was like she didn't. So that killed her grades. Then Therese, you know, since she's her cousin and all, hid weed in her room, and went crying to her uncle that she thought Mary was acting weird, and she was worried about her. Her parents were pissed, and pulled her out of school, and sent her to like this behavior remediation prison school, or something.”

“That's horrible,” Ophilia said, shaking her head. “How do you know all this?”

Primrose shrugged. “I move in a lot of social circles. I hear things.”

Ophilia frowned. “So it's all rumors.”

This didn't upset Prim. “You know the worst part?” 

“Ooh, tell the worst part,” Alfyn said.

Prim smiled. “Cyrus didn't even _go_ with her. He didn't go at _all_. All that over just asking him, not even anything happening.”

“And he's my partner,” Ophilia said, worried.

“Yeah, sorry.” Primrose shrugged. “Therion was supposed to be, but…” she shrugged.

Ophilia frowned. “Yeah, I have a question about him.”

“He is.” Prim nodded. “Like a hundred and ten percent. He just likes teasing Cordelia because of the faces she makes.”

“What?”

Primrose wrinkled her brow. “Wait, what's your question?”

“So the teachers call us Miss or Mister whatever our last name is, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So his last name is Therion?”

“Yeah.”

“So…”

Primrose grinned. “Ask him what his first name is next time you see him.”

“Don't do it,” Alfyn warned, shaking his head. “He freaked out when Prim told me to do that. Just started screaming. Dude's crazy.”

Primrose laughed. “That's why I hang out with him.”

Despite Alfyn's awkward offers to let her copy his work, Ophilia tried it on her own. Primrose cheated unabashedly, even when Mr. Ogen came right over to their table to talk with Alfyn. He either didn't notice, or care. At the end of class, when Ophilia was packing up her backpack, she felt Primrose tap on her shoulder. 

“This your phone?” she asked, holding up the device in its sparkly blue and white case.

“Yeah, how...?” Ophilia patted her back pocket, where she usually kept it. 

“Must have fallen out of your pocket,” Prim said, handing it to her. “And you might want to put a passcode on it. People here might not be as nice as your old school.”

“Hey, but--”

Primrose pushed past her as the bell rang. Ophilia unlocked her phone, and checked her texts, seeing a message to an unknown number. Opening the text, it showed a selfie of Primrose, taken at an angle that gave a full view of both her sultry smile, and her cleavage. 

“You got first lunch?” Alfyn said. Ophilia quickly turned off the phone screen.

“Yeah. No.” Ophilia shrugged, stuffing her phone in her pocket. “I need to check my schedule.”

“Okey dokey,” Alfyn said, scratching the back of his head. Ophilia hadn't noticed his little ponytail before. It was kind of cute. “See you around. Hope you have a good first day.”

Ophilia watched him go, smiling. He was maybe the first sincerely nice person she had met. Maybe Tressa, but Ophilia didn't think she had the energy to hang around Tressa very long. She unfolded her schedule, and found that she did have lunch next, feeling a little disappointed that she wasn't able to go with Alfyn.


	2. Chapter 2

Ophilia had packed her own lunch. She had figured that she would have enough confused awkwardness today, she didn't want to have to puzzle out a cafeteria line, too. She entered the busy lunchroom and looked around. She had met a fair amount of people today, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to sit with any of them. Certainly she didn't want to sit with Cyrus. She saw him with a group of people she didn't know, but while they were all talking and laughing, he was buried in a book, absently feeding french fries into his mouth. She saw Tressa, over at a table on the side displaying a big poster about supporting their fundraiser. Ophilia looked away before she made eye contact. She saw the two guys from P.E., seated at opposing tables, looking as if they were challenging each other to an eating competition. Maybe she should just sit by herself.

As she searched, she found one table that was mostly empty, except for one girl. She had a long red braid and wore a leopard print jumper, which would have been kind of cute if not for the zebra print leggings and huge feather earrings she was also wearing. Ophilia decided it was endearingly quirky. And she was sitting all by herself. Her heart went out to the girl, and she made her way over. 

As she was about to introduce herself, she felt a hand on her shoulder. 

“Ophilia! We're right over there!” Cordelia had grabbed her, and pointed her over to where Therese sat by another girl Ophilia hadn't met.

The animal print girl turned to see where the noise had come from, glaring at them.

“Hi H’aanit,” Cordelia said, bending at the waist like she was talking to a small child. “Sorry, I mean hola, H’aanit.” Cordelia laughed as if this was the funniest thing, and whirled Ophilia away. The girl flashed a hard, intense look at them, then turned back to her lunch.

Ophilia let herself be steered to the table. “Hey gorgeous,” Therese said. “Have a seat. This is Noa,” she motioned to the petite girl at her side.

“She almost sat by H’aanit,” Cordelia said, sliding into her seat.

“No way,” Therese said. “That's hilarious. Did she try to talk to you?”

“Just grunts,” Cordelia laughed.

Ophilia felt a knot in her stomach. Perhaps Primrose had been right. “What's… what's going on with her?”

“What isn't?” Therese rolled her eyes. 

“She's like this weird cat girl,” Noa said, leaning in. “She's obsessed with them. She moved here in middle school from some other country, so she's got this weird accent. No one had any idea what she was saying. They thought she didn't know English, so they stuck her in the class with all the Spanish kids.”

“And she doesn't know Spanish,” Cordelia laughed.

“That's awful!” Ophilia said. “So she moves here and can't talk to anyone?” Ophilia imagined herself in the same situation. Starting at a new school when she did speak the language was nerve wracking enough.

“They figured it out eventually,” Noa shrugged. “She can read and stuff. Just has a weird accent.”

“Yeah, and a totally weird obsession with cats,” Cordelia said.

“Do you guys remember in ninth grade science when we would just meow at her all the time?” Therese asked. The group laughed.

Ophilia felt sick. She had always been very empathetic, and with the awkwardness of the day, the emotions were hitting her hard. “I think I need the restroom,” she said, jerking to her feet. She snatched up her backpack before the other girls could say anything.

She was furious. Both on behalf of H'aanit, for what they were teasing her for behind her back, and for herself, to be mislead by these horrible girls. She wasn't sure where she was going, but she needed to get away. By the time she had calmed down enough to pay attention to her surroundings, she was in an empty wing of the building. She had been expecting to run into a teacher or someone to direct her back to the cafeteria, but she guessed the teachers were lunch, too. Not that she really wanted to go back there, since she'd just have to sit with those girls again. She found a bathroom, and figured she could hide out in a stall until the bell rang.

As she sat in a stall and weighed her hunger against the revulsion of eating in a public bathroom, she heard the door bang open and two voices enter. One was male. She pulled up her legs, perching on the toilet seat, to stay hidden. She heard some scraping sounds.

“Locked,” the male voice said.

“Good. Give it here,” the female voice said. It sounded very familiar. Primrose?

“Did you give that girl her phone back, yet?” the male voice. Therion?

Primrose laughed. “Yeah, I took a picture.”

“Wait, were you--”

“I was wearing clothes!” Prim said. “I learned my lesson.”

Therion laughed. “What did she say?”

“I didn't stick around,” Primrose said.

“Then what was the point of me stealing her phone?” Therion asked. With anger, Ophilia remembered him bumping into her after first period.

“I texted my phone from hers. Means she has my number now.”

“I swear, you have some of the weirdest plans. Just tell her you think she's cute.”

A strange smell wafted over the stall door. The smell of… apples? Ophilia peeked through the crack in the stall, saw the vape raised to Therion's lips. She sighed quietly. Now she would have to wait forever.

“I think I like the cotton candy better,” Primrose said.

“Then you can buy your own,” Therion said. “Speaking of making purchases,” he said, fishing through the pocket of his hoodie. “You gonna see Vanessa later today?” He pulled a folded wad of cash out of the pouch.

“Where did you get that?” Primrose took it from him, unfolding it to count it.

“Cordelia Ravus’ purse,” Therion laughed.

Primrose’s eyes widened as she kept counting bills. “She's going to be so pissed.” 

“Then let her be pissed.” Therion exhaled a small, apple-scented cloud. “She's the one with a crush on me. She should know better by now.”

“Women want what they can't have.” Primrose slid the money into the pocket of her skirt.

“Make sure Vanessa doesn't rip you off and give you a bunch of stems,” Therion said. 

“Yeah, I know.”

“I could get it myself if Heathcote wasn't watching me like a hawk all the time.”

“You end up in the assistant principal's office every other day for stupid shit,” Primrose said. “You need to be more careful.”

Therion blew a line of vapor at her face. She waved it away, backing up out of Ophilia's field of vision. 

“Give me that.” Primrose held out her hand. “I have next period with Simeon.”

“That dick,” Therion said, handing her the vape.

“He's spreading rumors about me again.”

“What a bastard. Can't take rejection.”

“Kicking me out of the drama club is kind of an overreaction, right?”

“Total asshat. You're a wonderful actress and deserve that role.”

“Damn right. I will have my revenge.”

“Good luck.” 

They were both silent for a minute, then broke into laughter.

The bell rang, and Ophilia watched them take their time unlocking the door and heading to class. As soon as she heard the door close behind them, she rushed for the exit. No way was she getting caught in the same bathroom as the lingering fruity scent and getting in trouble on her first day. She pushed out into the hall, which had started to fill with students. She had assumed Primrose and Theiron had moved on. To her horror, Prim was drinking from the water fountain right outside the bathroom door. With only a moment's hesitation, Ophilia turned and marched the opposite way down the hallway. She felt her phone buzz in her back pocket, but didn't stop to check it until she was at least two hallways away. 

It was from Primrose. A winking kiss emoji. She shoved the phone back in her pocket.

Ophilia's next class was a study hall, since she hadn't bothered signing up for an elective halfway through the semester. It was held in the library, and she was thankful for the promise of quiet and solitude.

She checked in with the librarian, a nice lady who introduced herself as Mrs. Mercedes. Ophilia sat at a table in the corner, and tried to calm her thoughts. After a bit, she figured she may as well work on something, and pulled Cyrus’ textbook out of her bag to at least glance at the pages he had marked.

As if on cue, Cyrus appeared from around one of the library stacks. He was reading and walking again, so he didn't notice Ophilia sitting a few feet away. He sat at a table with his back to her, never once moving his eyes from the page. The situation was socially dangerous, maybe, but he was far enough away. And there was no sign of--

Her heart caught in her throat as Therese appeared from around the same corner, obviously following Cyrus. But Therese didn't look back either-- her eyes were elsewhere. She sat next to Cyrus, angling her chair so she was agonizingly close to him. If she concentrated, Ophilia could hear their conversation.

“So when the Normans invaded, they all spoke French, and made the Anglo-Saxon nobles speak French, too.” Cyrus was saying. 

“That's so interesting,” Therese said, clearly not listening. 

“But the common people still spoke their weird Germanic dialect, which at that time was fairly similar to the language you find in Beowulf. Have you read it?”

It took a moment before Therese realized he had asked her a question. “No. No, I haven't read it.”

“You should,” Cyrus went on. “It's a classic of English literature. You must read it in translation, of course, because of the huge difference between Old English and even Middle English, which is what you might find in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales.”

“God, I love it when you talk nerdy to me,” Therese sighed.

“Excuse me?”

Therese shook her head, recomposing herself. “I was hoping you could help me with my English assignment, then. You do seem to know a lot.”

“Oh, I could go on for hours.”

“I bet you could,” Therese said, slyly. “I only need four pages. Maybe you could… come over? Maybe tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow, Tuesday?” Cyrus pondered. “I don't think I can. I have my SAT prep class, and then Wednesday is academic decathlon, and Thursday is debate.”

“Friday?” Therese said hopefully.

“I'd have to check my schedule but--”

Therese leaned against his arm, and smiled prettily. “I would love it for you to come study me. I mean, with me.”

Cyrus stared at her a moment. “I have obligations, Therese. I said I'd check my schedule.”

Therese leaned back, looking as if she were about to berate him for being so callously ignorant of her meaning, when the librarian met them at their table.

“Cyrus?” she asked, and Therese sat up, distancing herself from him.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“I was looking for that book you asked for. It seems to be already checked out.”

“That's a shame. I was going to use it for my history project. Can I put in a request?”

“Well, it seems the book is very overdue. Almost six months, at this point. The student who checked it out may still have it, or else he will have to pay the fine.”

“Do you know who has it?”

Mrs. Mercedes checked a paper in her hand. “A student by the name of Russell?”

Cyrus leaned back in his chair. “Most intriguing.”

\--- --- ---

When the bell rang, Ophilia shuffled out of the library well behind Cyrus and Therese. She watched which direction they went in, and made sure she went the opposite. She prayed she didn’t have any other classes with either of them today. 

She did find a familiar face in English class, however, complete with poofy skirt, ugg boots, and a grating smile. When she saw Tressa, she was sure she was in the wrong class.

“Ophilia! Hi!” Tressa chimed. “I’m so glad we have a class together!”

“I thought you were a sophomore. Isn’t this--”

“Yeah, with my crazy schedule, they couldn’t fit me in a sophomore class AND get me into marketing and accounting and economics all this year. And since I tested high enough, they let me in here! Isn’t that fun?”

“Yeah, great,” Ophilia said, knowing she couldn’t come close to matching Tressa’s enthusiasm.

“You’re so lucky. And we get Leon for a teacher,” Tressa grinned.

“Oh, this must be wrong then. My schedule says I have Bastralle.”

“Mr. Leon Bastralle,” a smooth voice said from behind her. Ophilia whirled, finding the most out-of-place teacher she had seen all day. He was young, with long blond hair and a stylish blazer open over a t-shirt. “But you can just call me Leon.” He smiled. “Welcome, Miss Clement, I assume?”

“Yes,” Ophilia said, taken aback.

“Tressa, you seem to know her already. Why don’t you two sit together, and you can get her caught up.” Leon breezed past them into the room, as Ophilia tried to be polite and hide her disappointment.

“Sure thing, Mr. Leon!” Tressa chimed, then leaned in towards Ophilia. “Isn’t he the best?”

After they got seated, Leon sat up on the edge of his desk, his pant legs pulling up to reveal the whimsical pirate-hatted parrots on his socks. As he spoke, Tressa hung on every word.

“The story we will begin today is one of adventure in faraway places.” Leon gestured grandly as he spoke. “Our protagonist is set adrift on the high seas, to crashland in a realm of fanciful inhabitants unlike he has ever seen before. In time, he learns about these people, reflecting in sharp contrast with the world he has left behind. Do you want to know what it’s called?” he smiled at Tressa.

“What’s it called?!” Tressa burst.

Leon lifted a thin paperback from his desk. “Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels,” he said, leaning towards Tressa. 

“Ooh!” Tressa squealed.

“Isn’t he the guy who wrote about eating babies?” Ophilia asked, then flushed when she realized she had spoken out loud. 

Leon turned to her, as did the eyes of the other students in the room. “Of course, he is also the author of A Modest Proposal, the renowned work of satire. Very astute, Miss Ophilia.”

Tressa beamed at her. Ophilia felt like melting into her seat. She glanced quickly around to see who else was staring at her, and noticed H’aanit, the girl from the cafeteria, sitting diagonally behind her. She was sitting cross-legged in her desk, intent on a drawing in her notebook. Watching to make sure Leon was distracted with writing the definition of satire on the board, she leaned back to take a closer look. The margins of her pages were filled with cat drawings, for sure… but not ordinary doodles. These were leaping tigers, pouncing leopards, slinking panthers, roaring lions--all drawn true to life in a realistic style. 

H’aanit noticed her staring, and looked up, fierce, like she had looked at lunch.

“Those are really good!” Ophilia whispered. H’aanit just stared at her, confused. Ophilia frowned. Maybe she didn’t understand English. Or maybe she didn’t understand compliments.

Leon was dropping off books at students’ desks, talking about Jonathan Swift’s biography in dramatic tones. “I want you to read part one today, and then we’ll analyze it in a discussion tomorrow. I can’t wait to see what you guys think.”

“Mr. Leon, can we read with a partner?” Tressa said, hurling her hand up.

Leon considered, then shrugged. “Sure, sounds good.”

“Yes!” Tressa said, pumping her fist.

Ophilia had already decided she was going to try to make up for lunch, and ask H’aanit to be her partner. When she turned to her, however, H’aanit was already up and moving to a corner of the room, where she balled up with her knees to her chest, her book balanced on top of them, shutting everyone else out. Ophilia’s face fell.

“You wanna be my partner, Ophilia?” Tressa asked beside her.

“Yeah, sure,” she said, turning back to Tressa. The other girl noticed the look on her face.

“What’s wrong?” Tressa followed Ophilia's gaze to H'aanit's corner.

“Don't worry about her. She always reads over there.”

“No, but like… is she okay?”

Tressa frowned.

“I tried to talk to her at lunch, but... I couldn’t.”

“She doesn’t talk much,” Tressa said. “Even when we’re supposed to give presentations. She doesn’t do it. But I did see her giving her presentation to Leon one morning, so I guess he lets her do it so she doesn’t have to talk in front of the class.” Tressa flipped through the pages of her book. “Some girls in your grade were really terrible to her. Now she won’t talk to anyone.”

Ophilia’s heart sank. She wanted to reach out to her, to be her friend, to let her know not everyone was a horrible person. As she glanced back, she saw that Leon had sunk down next to her, and was talking to her in a low voice. Ophilia decided she had to go sharpen her pencil to overhear them. As she walked by, she heard H’aanit reading. She did have a strong accent, but it was a beautiful one. And she clearly knew the language. This just made her all the more angry with Therese and Cordelia. She wanted to rage about it, righteous anger welling up inside her. But she couldn’t, since she was supposed be reading.

“Tressa, do you want to read?” she asked when she returned. “My throat hurts.”

“Sure can!” Tressa smiled, and started reading, adding far more expression to her voice than the text warranted.

Ophilia slid her phone out of her pocket, held it carefully on her lap so it was hidden by the desk, while she pretended to follow along. Leon wasn't looking. She opened up the text from Primrose, and typed back a few words.

_You were right. Those girls are bad._

She just felt she had to say something, and she didn't have anyone she could talk to out loud. She wasn't expecting a text back, but in the next five minutes, her phone buzzed in her lap.

_I'm always right._ Primrose had texted back.

_What do I do?_

Another few minutes-- Primrose must be waiting for a good opportunity to use her phone without being caught.

_Hang out with me._ And the winking kissy face again.

Ophilia frowned. She just wanted a friend. Was that too much to ask? She turned to Tressa again, tried to deal with the word babble coming out of her, but struggled. She felt her phone buzz again.

_What class you in?_

_English. Bastralle._

_Go to the bathroom. Meet you there._

Ophilia didn't know what would be happening in this bathroom, and she certainly didn't want to get herself in any trouble. Her dad would kill her. Or at least, yank her out of school again, and send her to a new one. She decided to ignore the text, focus on reading.

Her phone vibrated again.

_You coming?_

Ophilia thought about continuing to ignore the text, but she felt bad about that.

_Can't. Sorry._

When her English class let out, she found Primrose waiting outside the classroom door, with an exasperated expression.

“Sorry,” Ophilia said quietly. “I… I don't want to get in trouble. It's my first day and all.”

Primrose shook her head and smiled. “I'm not gonna get you in trouble. I just wanted to talk. Get to know you, you know?”

Ophilia walked down the hall to her next class-- she had checked this one ahead of time-- and Primrose walked alongside her. 

“I just thought…” Ophilia glanced around. “Because you know I was in the bathroom when you and Therion…”

Primrose laughed. “You really are a good girl.”

Ophilia reddened.

“I would never try to pressure you into anything you didn't want to do,” Primrose said. “Most of that's just Therion. He thinks he needs to be this edgy jerkwad so people won't mess with him.”

As they walked by a tall, redheaded guy and his friends, Ophilia heard a smack, and Primrose's eyes widened in shock. Then she spun, yelling.

“What the hell, asshole?” She held her hands over her butt, protectively.

“Sorry,” the redhead shrugged. “I thought it was open for everybody. That's what I've been told, anyway.”

He laughed to the group of guys behind him. Ophilia blanched.

Primrose looked like she was about to scream at him, but she was overshadowed by another yell from down the hallway.

“You gotta learn to keep your damn hands to yourself!” Therion stood amid a swarm of students that leaned out of his way.

The redhead looked around behind him, feigning confusion. “You talking to me, midget?”

“Yeah, Darius, I'm talking to you.” Therion stomped down the hallway, students now dashing out of his way or leaning against the lockers to let him past. Ophilia hid behind Primrose. “Don't f-ing touch her.”

“Why, it's not like she's _your_ girlfriend. Hell, from what I hear, she's everybody else's girlfriend.”

This encouraged a string of “ooohhhh"s from Darius’ followers. 

“Keep saying stuff. See what happens.”

“Therion,” Prim said quietly. “He's not worth it.”

Therion stared Darius down, having to look up at the taller boy. “Depends if he wants to walk away or not.”

“I got better things to do than squash bugs like you.” Darius turned to head down the hall.

“Just afraid you're gonna get beat again,” Therion taunted. “Then all these people here will see you cry. You know. Like last time. When you cried.”

“You motherf--” Darius wheeled around, and would have come at Therion if his friend hadn't grabbed his arm, holding him back. Therion would have gotten to him, too, if Primrose hadn't stepped in front of him, her arms held out to block him. 

The bell rang, and Darius stopped struggling against the guy holding him back. “You got lucky,” Darius said, raising a middle finger at him, and turning down the hall. “Let’s go, Gareth.”

Therion responded with double middle fingers, waving his hands at Darius’ back.

“Thanks,” he muttered to Primrose under his breath. “I didn't really wanna fight that guy again.”

“You don't have to fight anybody,” Prim rolled her eyes. “I think you just like it. Especially that guy.”

“He knows what he did,” Therion said. He seemed to first take notice of Ophilia. “Oh, hey new girl. How's it going?” He held up a hand for a high five. Ophilia looked at Prim before she tapped her palm to his, awkwardly.

“So, that right there? A good example about why I like Therion anyway,” Primrose laughed.

“Yeah, I'm like a guard dog, except more witty.”

“Are you?” Prim teased.

“I'm freaking hilarious,” Therion said.

Ophilia looked around the emptying hallway. “Did the bell ring? Am I late?”

“You're new, just say you got lost,” Primrose said. “What class do you have?”

“Math,” Ophilia said. “With…” she tried to remember the teacher's name from the schedule. “It started with a Z?”

“Zaanta.” Prim said.

“The Zant man!” Therion shouted. “I’m going there too. I guess. Come on.”

“Be nice, Therion,” Primrose warned.

“I'm always nice,” he said, starting down the hall. Ophilia followed.

When they reached the classroom, Therion opened the door, stepping through dramatically, Ophilia following sheepishly behind. “Don't worry, everybody,” he said loudly. “Made it on time!”

“You used that one already today,” Ophilia said, only loud enough for Therion to hear. 

He looked back at her over his shoulder, speaking in a deadpan voice. “You're fun. I can see why she likes you.”

“Did you bring our new student with you, Mr. Therion?!” a voice asked from the front podium. An absolute bear of a man stood behind it, math book open before him.

“Just for you, Mr. Z,” Therion walked in, spinning into his seat. In this class, he sat near the front.

“Have a seat anywhere you like, young lady,” Zaanta said. Ophilia looked out over the classroom, and spotted a familiar face. She hurried over to sit at a table next to Alfyn.

“So take this probability problem, here,” Zaanta motioned back to the board. “Your standard roulette reel has a finite number of options. Some red, some black. Now, if you were to bet money, say twenty dollars, on just a single space…”

“Hey,” Alfyn whispered.

“Hi,” Ophilia whispered back. “Turns out I do have first lunch.”

“Yeah, I saw you,” he said. “I tried to wave, but then your friends came and got you.”

“They're not my friends,” Ophilia said.

“Ah, listening to Primrose.” Alfyn nodded. “Do Cordelia and them know that they aren't your friends?”

“Page 104,” Zaanta boomed. “Odds or the evens, I don't care which. Try to get em done by the end of the period.”

“He knows they put the odd answers in the back of the book, right?” Ophilia asked. 

Alfyn shrugged. “I think that's why people like his class so much.”

The classroom phone rang. Therion sat up straight in his seat. Mr. Zaanta answered it, staring at Therion the whole time. “I’ll send him right down,” he said, hanging up the phone. “What'd you do this time?”

“Me?” Therion asked. “How should I know?”

Mr. Zaanta looked disappointed. “Assistant Principal Heathcote's office. Go on.”

Therion stood, lifted his pencil over his desk, let it fall like a mic drop. On his way out the door, he pulled his sunglasses back on over his face.

“What is up with that guy?” Ophilia shook her head, trying not to laugh.

Alfyn shrugged. “Hear he used to get bullied a lot, like back in sixth grade. ‘Specially by this one kid, Darius? Then one day he's like, screw it-- ‘scuse the language-- and just started acting like that. Now he's so far gone, don't know if it's an act anymore.”

“Huh.” Ophilia said, looking at the door Therion had disappeared though.

"Why... uh... why are you interested in him?"

"He's in my history class, too” Ophilia said, then noticed the look on Alfyn's face. "Oh. Oh! No, not like that. Just curious. He's ah... not my type."

"What... what is your type, then?" Alfyn grinned. His smile was contagious.

“They keep telling me I'm a good girl,” Ophilia rolled her eyes. “Maybe I like nice guys.”


	3. Chapter 3

Ophilia kept talking with Alfyn while he worked with her on the math. He was really smart, even though he said people expected him to have low grades. He chalked it up to the accent. He was hoping to get into pharmacy school someday, and he was the first baseman on the school’s baseball team. He had a sweet, unassuming manner. Ophilia was glad to have this last class of the day with him.

They walked out of class together, still talking, Ophilia getting lost in the conversation. She followed him out to the back parking lot, and all the way to his truck.

“Is this yours?” Ophilia said, eyeing it. It was ostentatiously large: lifted, huge grill, floodlights on the top of the cabin, slick new lime green paint.

Alfyn laughed. “Yeah. I guess you can take the boy out of the country, but…” he shrugged. “You.. ah, you need a ride home or anything?”

Ophilia laughed. “No, I’m taking the bus.”

“Well shoot, you better hurry, then!” Alfyn said. “They’re ‘bout to leave you behind.”

In a sudden panic, Ophilia turned and ran towards the front of the building to catch her bus. Alfyn shouted something at her, but she didn’t hear. She was dashing through the building to try to make it out the front doors. As she ran, she plowed straight into a solid wall that emerged from a doorway.

Catching herself as she hit the floor, she looked up to find that the wall was actually a person, with a hand extended to help her up for the second time that day.

“We need to stop meeting like this,” Olberic laughed, lifting her to her feet. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I need to catch the bus!” Ophilia said hurriedly, rushing off.

“Buses are gone,” Olberic said, and Ophilia skidded to a stop.

“You’re kidding.” Ophilia was crestfallen.

“Sorry,” Olberic shrugged. “You need a ride?”

“I don’t know…” Ophilia said. She would have easily accepted a ride from Alfyn, but this guy was bigger, and more prone to anger. She thought about what her father would have said about hanging out with strange boys. “I don’t think my dad would like it.”

Olberic shrugged his beefy shoulders. “Text him. But I understand. I won’t take it personally.” He hefted a large duffel bag onto his shoulder. “But I’ll walk with you to the front, anyway.”

Ophilia was surprisingly relieved at the way he had taken the pressure off of her. It struck her as more chivalrous to let her back out of his offer than him even making the offer in the first place. She thought that she could just text her dad and ask him to pick her up after he was done with work. That wouldn’t be until six or six thirty, though.

“Thanks for not being offended,” Ophilia said. “I just don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Not a problem,” he said. “It’s noble. Person’s got to have principles, yours is to do right by your dad. If more people had principles, the world would be a better place. A more fair place.”

Ophilia read the subtext. “You’re still mad about Erhardt?”

Olberic laughed, a deep belly laugh. “I’m more mad that I’m still mad. JV’s having its best season on record. I just miss out on some of that glory.”

“Maybe you should talk to him,” Ophilia suggested. “If you’re not mad, maybe he’s not? After all, didn’t he slight you, not the other way around?”

Olberic considered. “Yeah, I guess. I’m so used to getting angry every time I see him. It’ll take some effort.” He sighed. “But, I’m trying to be a better person. They put me in this counciling thing after my suspension. Made me realize I can’t go around picking fights to solve my problems. Little goals, they said. That’s why I came and talked to you today, actually. One of my goals was to be nice to someone new.”

“Does it help?” Ophilia asked.

Olberic nodded. “Yeah. I think you’re a good influence. Guiding people to see the light.”

Ophilia flushed. 

Before they reached the front of the school, a guy in football pads jogged over to intercept Olberic, muttering something about needing to check in with Coach Werner. “He’s pissed,” he added.

“Great,” Olberic groaned. “He’s gonna make me run the stairs again. Next time I mess up he’s gonna be burning me at the stake, or something.” He nodded to Ophilia. “I’ll swing by the front when I’m done, if you still need to get home. Mine’s the blue Mustang.”

“Okay, good luck,” Ophilia said, and watched them jog down the hall. 

She wandered towards the front of the building and sat on a concrete bench. As she composed a text to her sister, who seemed to have gotten on the bus just fine, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Primrose and Therion were meandering by. Ophilia’s first instinct was to hide, and she wasn’t sure why. There was nowhere to go, anyway, so she just stared at her phone, wondering if they would notice her. They did.

“Hey there, new girl,” Primrose said, sliding up next to her. “Good first day?”

“Hey, uhm… yeah, I guess,” Ophilia said, watching Therion hoist himself on top of a nearby retaining wall that was nearly as tall as he was. “I thought you were in trouble.”

“Why would I be in trouble?” Therion laughed.

“You never came back to math class.”

“Oh, right.” Therion brushed his hair aside so that it only covered one of his eyes, not both. “They thought I stole something from this horrible judgmental bitch, but they didn’t have any proof. They always suspect me, for some reason.”

“Probably because you did it,” Ophilia shrugged.

Therion feigned shock, while Primrose laughed. 

“She was in the bathroom at lunch,” Prim told him. Therion just laughed. Primrose shook her head. “Here I thought it was the fight you almost picked in the hallway. You just got back from a suspension for fighting that same dude.”

Therion shook his head. “Wasn’t him last time.”

“Who’d you fight?”

Therion shrugged. “Some nerd. Gideon?”

Prim scrunched up her face. “Why?”

“Reasons.” Therion picked at a frazzled thread on his worn-out vans. Primrose stared him down. He sighed. “He was being a little bitch. Giving other people a hard time.”

“Other people,” Primrose mouthed, smiling.

“Hey,” Therion warned. 

A blue Mustang drove through the driveway in front of them, slowing. Olberic rolled down the window, staring out at Ophilia. She decided she was going to take the ride home after all. As she stood, collecting her backpack, Primrose waved him on.

“Keep drivin’, honey,” she shouted. Therion flipped him off. 

“Infuriating girl,” Olberic muttered, and sped away.

“He was going to give me a ride home,” Ophilia said indignantly.

“Oh.” Prim said. “My bad.”

“Who was that?” Therion asked.

“Eisenberg.” Primrose said. “He’s on the football team. Like a running back or something.”

“Not a tight end?” joked Therion. “Bet he’s got one.”

“Shut up, Therion.”

Ophilia turned to confront them. “So if you’re scaring off my ride, that means _you_ are going to get me home?” She gave Therion a hard look.

“You’re going to trust Therion behind the wheel of a car?” Primrose laughed. “They won’t give him a license.”

Ophilia smirked, despite her annoyance.

“That test is rigged,” Therion said.

“Yeah. Rigged so you can’t cheat, because you actually have to be able to drive.” Primrose laughed.

“No, but seriously,” Ophilia said.

“We walk,” Therion shrugged. “You live close?”

“Flamesgrace Avenue.”

“Ooh, that’s far.” Primrose winced. “I mean, maybe you could come hang out at my place? Then have your folks pick you up from there?”

Ophilia liked Prim. She really did. But right now, she just wanted to go home. But before she could answer, a white sports car screeched to a halt in the driveway. Ophilia whirled. 

Therese was leaning out the rear passenger window. “Hey hottie, get in! We’re going to get coffee!” Cordelia was smiling out of the front passenger seat, waving at Ophilia.

Prim stepped forward. “Aww, you know I can’t. I made a new year’s resolution to not hang out with terrible human beings.”

“That’s too bad,” Cordelia said, making a face. “And unfortunate that you’re not bright enough to figure out when people aren’t talking to you. Maybe spend more time studying, and less time sending out nude selfies.”

Ophilia’s jaw dropped. Therese shot a glance at the seat in front of her. “Cordelia, be nice. You know it was an accident.” Both girls laughed. Primrose fumed.

Therion dropped off the wall, catching himself awkwardly on the ground, then rising to his feet. Primrose grabbed his shoulders as he stomped towards the car. 

“Let’s just go,” Primrose said angrily, pulling him with her back towards the building.

“I was just gonna jump on the hood of the car,” Therion complained. “Scare them.”

“Screw them,” Primrose said, storming back into the school, seeming to forget about Ophilia in her anger. Therion stared at Cordelia while he made an obscene gesture in front of his crotch. Cordelia made a face.

Ophilia watched them go. 

“Hey, come on, girl!” Therese called. “We can take you home after. It’s this cute little bougie place. Cafe Marsalim. You’ll love it, I swear.”

Defeated, Ophilia went to the car. Therese scooted over, and she climbed into the back seat.

“Thanks for the ride, but I don’t think I can go out with you guys,” Ophilia said. “My dad’s expecting me at home, and I already missed the bus.”

“Text him!” Therese said. “Just say you’re going out with your awesome new friends!”

Ophilia pulled out her phone. She wanted to text her dad telling him to call her, pretend to be mad and order her to come straight home, but Therese was reading over her shoulder. So, she just texted asking permission, hoping he’d say no. After a while, he responded:

_Sounds great, sweetheart! Have fun! So glad you make some friends!_

Ophilia sighed.

Noa drove them through town, while Cordelia and Therese laughed and asked Ophilia about her first day. They peppered in so many compliments, Ophilia almost forgot about the things she had learned about them. All three of them were so pretty, and sweet, and overly nice to her, that it was easy to be taken in. Soon, she was actually smiling, and laughing at their jokes--mostly because they weren’t being made at anyone else’s expense. 

Once they got to the cafe, a chic little place with a Mediterranean flair, Noa offered to buy everyone their drinks. Ophilia ordered a latte, thinking she’d treat herself, while the other girls ordered some polysyllabic monster concoctions of sugar, syrup, and sprinkles. They sat at what Therese called “their table,” overlooking the wide bay windows onto the courtyard below. 

Cordelia asked Therese how her conversation with Cyrus had gone, and she just sighed.  
“He is as oblivious as he is beautiful.”

“So, he’s not interested,” Cordelia said. She gave a knowing nod to Noa.

“What’s all that?” Therese asked, incredulous.

“Nothing!” Noa squeaked. “I just have a theory.”

“He’s not gay,” Therese insisted. “He’s just very busy.”

“Sure, sure,” Noa said. “Cordelia, did you ever find that money?”

“Ugh,” Cordelia groaned. “No. They even called that little slimeball in to the office and went through his backpack. Nothing. He probably hid it somewhere before they even started looking.”

“How do you even know it was him?” Noa asked.

“Because he’s got a weird crush on me!” Cordelia squealed. “Ophilia, he was talking to you before we picked you up. Did Therion say anything about me?”

Ophilia sipped her coffee, buying herself some time. She hated lying. “He didn’t mention your name,” she said finally. “Just talked about some fights he got into.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “He’s so impulsive.”

“You know you love it,” Therese teased.

“Shut up!”

They both laughed. Finally, Noa piped up. 

“I can’t take you guys home on Wednesday, just a heads up,” she said.

“Why not?” Cordelia asked, indignant. 

Noa flushed. “I’m… I have a meeting.”

“What meeting?” Cordelia pressed.

“I’m going to be on the School Spirit Committee?” she said. “My friend Tressa talked me into it today.”

“Who?” Cordelia was confused.

“That ugg-booted little spaz girl,” Therese said. “Noa, you are _not_ her friend.”

“She’s nice!” Noa protested.

“She dresses like a nine year old.” Cordelia made a face. “There is no way, Noa.”

Noa pouted. “Fine. I’ll make an excuse.”

“Good,” Therese said. “I will not be friends with someone who hangs out with someone like that. Ophilia, you know who we’re talking about?”

“I need to use the restroom,” Ophilia said, getting up abruptly. She took her backpack with her, made for the back of the cafe, and snuck out the back door. She was not going back. She would walk home. Tugging her phone out of her pocket, she pulled up the map to see how far from home she was. The cafe was further from home than the school was. She sighed, and started walking.

Waiting for the light to change at an intersection, she saw a familiar green truck rumble past. She waved a bit as it passed her by, and she watched the brake lights come on, the truck pull over, and the driver’s side door open. Alfyn poked his head up over the cab. He waved.

“Still need that ride?” he shouted.

Ophilia grinned, and jogged to the truck.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Ophilia walked into school apprehensively. Primrose had sent her a text, apologizing for leaving her stranded. Ophilia decided to not tell her about the coffee trip, or the great conversations she had with Alfyn on her ride home, or the apprehensive look her father and sister gave her when she climbed out of his giant truck in front of her house. Instead, she had just thanked her for being nice to her on her first day. When Prim asked her to send a picture, Ophilia just said goodnight.

She walked through the crowd of strangers, searching for a familiar face. She felt a gentle tap on her shoulder, and turned to Alfyn's warm smile.

“Hey there,” he said, only a slight flush in his cheeks. “Hope your dad didn't think I was a creeper or nothin’. I thought after I saw you go in that I shoulda got out and shook his hand, or somethin'.”

Ophilia smiled, and shook her head. “He's overprotective. Don't feel bad. He was already worried about me going to public school.”

“Then why'd he let you transfer?”

Ophilia bit her lip. “Well, it wasn't really a choice.”

Alfyn looked surprised. “You get kicked out?!”

Ophilia was about to explain, when someone grabbed her wrist, pulling her away. She dug in her heels, whirling. It was Therese.

“You got lost, girl,” Therese smiled a saccharine smile. “We're hanging out over here. Noa stopped and got you a latte, since you didn't finish yours yesterday.” There was an underlying threat to her voice that unnerved Ophilia.

She pulled her hand away, looking from the veiled anger on Therese's face, to the worried, slighted expression on Alfyn's.

“I'll come say hi,” she told Therese. “Let me just say bye to Alfyn.”

Therese looked at each of them, laughing. “That's cute. Oh my gosh. This guy? You actually--” she interrupted herself, laughing. “No, girl, you're going out with Mattias. We already decided for you.” Therese's voice turned dark. “You know, after you ditched us yesterday.”

Ophilia sucked in her breath. The glint in Therese's eyes was razor sharp. “And we're all going out on Friday, and you're going to make your history partner come with us. Then maybe we'll forgive you.”

Ophilia was about to make an excuse-- she had to run home, her dad came and got her, she suddenly felt sick and had to be rushed to the hospital-- but she hated lying. Instead, she squared up. “I'm not sure when I asked you to make those decisions for me,” she said firmly. “Maybe things are different here, but I'm used to talking to who I want, when I want.”

“Ooh…” Alfyn said, and both girls turned to him angrily. He took a few steps backwards, waving his hands in front of him.

“Girl,” Therese said, her tone sharp enough to cut.

Ophilia shook her head, straightened her spine. “So if I want to talk to Alfyn, I'm going to. And if I want to talk to Primrose, I will. And if I want to be freaking reading partners with Tressa, I'll do that too! And--” she dropped her voice to an angry whisper. “I’m going to work on my history project with Cyrus.”

Therese's face twisted into disgusted shock. “Bitch,” she hissed. “You messed with the wrong girl.”

“No,” Ophilia said, “you did.” She met Therese's gaze, unwavering, until the other girl spun away, retreating back to Cordelia and Noa.

“That was freaking awesome.” Alfyn laughed nervously behind her. “But you might be in trouble.”

“I'll be fine,” Ophilia said. “I only look like a good girl.”

She watched her back until the bell rang, and then dreaded making her way to first period history.

Thankfully, Mr. Yvon told them to sit with their partners, so she didn’t have to sit by Therese. Unfortunately, she still had to deal with her glare as she set her backpack down next to Cyrus.

Therion walked in late again, but since Yvon wasn't in the middle of teaching, he didn’t bother making a scene. Yet he did go out of his way to pass by Ophilia and Cyrus. Ophilia watched him approach out of the corner of her eye, and didn’t look up when he stopped at their desks. He dropped a little folded square of paper next to Cyrus’ hand. Cyrus quickly hid the note under his palm, sliding it towards his body. He glanced up to see if Ophilia had noticed, and seeing her watching him, shot an exasperated look towards Therion. Therion shrugged at Cyrus, winked at Ophilia, then moved on to sit with Prim.

“You guys are friends?” Ophilia asked.

“No.” Cyrus said quickly. “Can you imagine what that would do to my grade point average?”

Ophilia was aware of Therese and Cordelia's eyes on her for the entire period, but she didn't let them have the satisfaction of seeing her scared. She sat with her shoulders back, her head high. When the bell rang, she was out the door in an instant, practically sprinting to P.E. She saw Noa in a hallway, and ducked down a stairwell to avoid her. She tried to remember the tour Tressa had given her to find a long way to P.E. The bell rang while she searched, and she found herself rushing through empty corridors.

As she rounded the back corner in front of the girl's locker room, she thought she was in the clear. The same moment she thought that, her ankle caught on an extended foot, and she went sprawling to the floor. She felt her backpack ripped off, and she turned to see Therese and Cordelia standing over her, Noa holding her backpack.

“Sorry,” Cordelia said, eyebrows arched.

“Yeah, sorry,” Therese said, pouring the remainder of her cold brew coffee down the front of Ophilia's light blue dress.

Ophilia scrambled to her feet, muscles tensed. A thousand thoughts flooded her mind-- her promise to Lianna to not get in trouble at this school. Olberic's warning about getting suspended for defending himself. Alfyn marveling at her hidden strength. Primrose's anger at the girls’ words. H’aanit’s loneliness. Therion’s fierce defense of his best friend. Jer father's disappointment in the dean's office at her last school, as he heard she had gotten in a fight standing up for what she knew was right. She let her muscles relax.

“Grab her,” Therese said, and she and Cordelia rushed her, dragging her off her feet and down the hall. Ophilia struggled to get away, but the girls pulled her along by the hair and the waist.

“See how pretty you are now,” Therese said, peeling the gum from her mouth and crushing it into Ophilia's hair, while Noa giggled. She felt her dress tear as she struggled away from their clutches. She wouldn't hit them. She couldn't disappoint her father.

“Just shove her in that janitor's closet,” Noa said.

“We should rip her clothes off,” Cordelia said. “Then she'd have to run out naked.”

Therese giggled manically. “Girl. You are so smart.”

Ophilia tried to yell, but Cordelia clamped a hand over her mouth. They didn't have to pull her far down the hall to the janitor’s closet. Therese whipped open the door, ready to shove Ophilia in, but stopped. She stared, mouth agape, at the closet. Ophilia forgot her fear for a moment.

In the janitor's closet, just out of what seemed like a fairly intense kiss, stood Cyrus and Therion. They both stared at the interrupting girls with a muted version of Therese's shock.

“Therion.” Cyrus nudged him urgently. Therion quickly removed his hand from the front of Cyrus' khakis.

Therese and Cordelia screamed.

Therion pushed past them. Cyrus was still struggling to rebutton his pants, looking panicked.

“Come on, new girl,” Therion said, grabbing Ophilia's arm, rushing the both of them out of there quickly. Ophilia let herself be led away, snatching her backpack back from where Noa had dropped it on the floor.

Cyrus smiled meekly and ducked after them, hurrying down the hall. Therion did not slow until they had turned the corner. Then he dropped Ophilia's arm, and spun around to Cyrus. They both started laughing.

“Shit, man, I did not think anyone else knew about that closet,” Therion said. 

“Word will be all over the school by lunch,” Cyrus frowned. “Their faces, though.” He started laughing again, and Therion joined in. Ophilia tried to catch her breath, realizing that she was shaking.

“I have to go,” Cyrus said. “Morlock might notice if I’m more than twenty minutes late to econ.” He hustled down the hall.

“Bye, babe,” Therion called. Cyrus glared back at him, irritated, but he didn’t stop walking.

“I’m confused,” Ophilia said.

“Well, you have gum in your hair and coffee on your dress,” Therion said. “You should probably go to the nurse and get a change of clothes, because you look kind of ridiculous.” He started walking in that direction, and Ophilia followed.

“You know what I mean.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Oh, about him. And the closet.” Therion shrugged. “He wanted to buy Adderall off me for finals last year. You know, to make his focus unparalleled. Not usually my thing, but I found him some. He’s crazy hot, right? And, uh… I’m kind of charming. In a way.”

“You’re not scared of Therese.” Ophilia said, pieces clicking into place. “No one else will go near him because of what she did to Mary.”

“What’s she going to do?” Therion scoffed. “Tell all my friends I said mean things about them? Please. Primrose hates her, and I don’t really have any other friends. Maybe you?” He shrugged. “Haven't decided yet.”

Ophilia grinned conspiratorially. “She might get you kicked off all those sports teams you’re on.”

Therion feigned shock. “And all my after school clubs and activities! The horror!”

Ophilia laughed. “She might plant drugs in your locker.”

“Please, I hope she does,” Therion said. “Save me some trouble.”

\--- --- ---

Ophilia went to see Nurse Eliza, who cut the gum out of her hair and gave her a pair of basketball shorts and a school t-shirt. At least she had P.E. clothes now. Eliza tried to get her to talk to Assistant Principal Heathcote, but Ophilia didn't bother. She'd handled worse in the past on her own. 

“Do you want me to call home then, sweetie?” the nurse asked.

_And have dad find out I'm in trouble on my second day?_ “I'm okay. I'm just going to go to class.”

Eliza looked at the clock. “Well, it's almost lunch time. Might as well go there.”

Ophilia thanked her, and walked down the hallways with her wonky hair and her baggy clothes, but her head held high.

She ran into Alfyn first, who looked a little shocked by her appearance, but she just smiled and waved to him. 

“I bet you have a story for me, huh?” He grinned and laughed.

She walked into the cafeteria, past Cordelia and Therese at their table. Therese's eyes were red, her eyeliner smudged. Cordelia glared up at Ophilia, but she just gave a friendly wave. Cordelia scowled. 

She walked past Tressa's fundraising booth, and was surprised to see Noa standing there, talking to Tressa. They were both grinning.

Olberic was sitting with Erhardt, at the same table, though they both still seemed to be engaged in the middle of a contest to see who could chug the most milk. 

She past caught Primrose's eye, and she gave a little wave. Primrose smiled back, and sank down to sit at a table with Therion… and Cyrus. Cyrus’ book sat closed at the edge of the table.

“Where do you want to sit?” Alfyn asked. Ophilia looked around, and chose her table. She walked up to the girl wearing an oversized sweater with a wolf on it.

“Hi,” Ophilia said. “You are a really great artist. Do you mind if we sit with you?”

H'aanit looked over Ophilia quizzically, then smiled at her ridiculousness. “Sure,” she said in her musical accent. “My name is H'aanit. Nice to meet you.”


End file.
